The Reaper Whose Name Is Death
by LavernaG
Summary: This is the scene of Matthew's death, as seen by his sister, Marilla. (Anne never came to Green Gables.) WARNING: SAD! One-shot.


_**I know, you're all probably going to hate me for this, but... I am heartbroken, yet grateful that Matthew was taken at the end of the book. It made the book so much more realistic. It was realistic already, of course, but this finished it off perfectly. It was an utter agony to read this part of the book, I shed so many tears, my heart was broken, but I'll be forever grateful to Lucy Maud Montgomery for creating this miracle of a book.**_

 _ **I guess I am writing this Fanfiction just to prove that no one can overdo L. M. Montgomery's work.**_

 _ **This is the scene of Matthew's death if Anne had never come to Green Gables. In fact, the Cuthberts hadn't adopted any orphan.**_

* * *

"Matthew—Matthew—what is the matter? Matthew, are you sick?"

It was Marilla who spoke, alarm in every jerky word. She was staring at Matthew standing in the porch doorway, a folded paper in his hand, and his face strangely drawn and grey. Marilla dropped her needlework and sprang across the kitchen to him. She was too late; before she could reach him Matthew had fallen across the threshold.

"No—No, Matthew!" gasped Marilla. "Come on, look at me." She knelt next to Matthew, and pulled him into her arms. She shook him in hopes that he'd open his eyes. "Please. Oh God, please, Matthew, wake up!"

At any other moment in her life Marilla would have been utterly grateful that no one saw her in this state - completely out of her natural reserved self. But at this moment, Marilla's thoughts were far from this vain notion.

For a moment or two, Marilla simply held her brother in her arms. The only sound in the room was her own shuddering intake of breath. Matthew needed help, and Marilla couldn't provide any. This was agonizing.

When a glimpse of sense returned to Marilla's mind, she called out as loud as she could, "Help! Martin! Help!" At any other time she'd have been annoyed at her voice breaking in the middle of a word. Now active, Marilla's mind screamed at her to run for help; the rest of her couldn't bear the thought of leaving Matthew's side.

As always, Marilla's rational mind outshone her feelings. She got up and hurried for the door, daring not to look back at Matthew on her way out. The bright sunlight seemed to mock Marilla's fear. "Martin!" Marilla called once she was out the door. Her tone must have been totally uncharacteristic to her, because the hired man appeared a second later from the barn, a bewildered expression on his face. "It's Matthew," explained Marilla, her voice quavering. "He needs help. Now! Bring a doctor."

This vague explanation was all that was needed, as Martin took off to the stables the next moment. Two minutes later he was already riding down the red road in a haste that left a cloud of dust behind him. He had no need to stop at the Lyndes'. The moment Martin passed Mrs. Rachel's window, the woman set down her knitting and reached out for her hat.

Marilla had lived at Green Gables for the majority of her life, but she still managed to bump into two walls on her way back inside. She returned to her spot beside Matthew's grey and motionless form—with perhaps more haste than her knees would have approved of. At the sight of her brother's calm and undisturbed face the first tears escaped Marilla's eyes.

"Come back to me, Matthew," she cried as she searched Matthew's face in vain hope. Then she put her arms around him again, pulling his head to her chest. "You can't leave me," Marilla wept passionately, as tears flowed freely now and she clung on to Matthew's limp body. "You can't leave me like this!"

This was the last time Marilla could ever be alone with her brother. Alone, like they had been for the majority of their lives—just the two of them and Green Gables. It had always been Marilla's voice that was heard more in their comfortable silence. But never before had the quiet Matthew Cuthbert been so excruciatingly silent. He'd always provided his sister with a small look that in their case meant more than any of his words ever could. Marilla had grown accustomed to the silence—save when Rachel was around—but this silence on Matthew's part was unbearable.

Only Marilla's own heartbroken whimpers disturbed the holy silence. She could feel very well that the precious man in her arms was not going to return to consciousness. He was not going to open his eyes and give his sister his small shy smile. He was never going to do that again.

This is how Mrs. Lynde found Marilla—on the floor, crying, embracing her brother who had been sprawled across the threshold. Marilla raised her tear-stained face to greet her friend, but not a word came from her mouth.

Mrs. Rachel crouched right next to her, and reached out a hand to try Matthew's pulse. She found none. She looked at Marilla's anxious face sorrowfully and the tears came into her own eyes. She could read the desperate question in Marilla's eyes. "Oh, Marilla," Mrs. Rachel said gravely. "I don't think—we can do anything for him."

Marilla's face twitched and she released a small breath, along with all her hopes. Her fingers instinctively tightened their grip on Matthew, and she held him close. Marilla's form shook violently, as she gave way for a fit of uncontrollable impassioned grief.

Mrs. Rachel couldn't think of anything to say to comfort the poor woman. There was no way to comfort a person in this condition—Mrs. Rachel knew that all too well. The quiet Matthew Cuthbert had not only been dear to his sister, Mrs. Rachel was reminded as tears of her own started falling.

It was a terrifying feeling of complete emptiness that crept into Marilla's heart. She had only ever held one person in her heart—his presence had comforted her, had calmed her—he had always been there for her. She'd only ever loved one person—he'd been a friend and a family—he'd been special to her, just as she'd been special to him.

Marilla didn't know what she would do tomorrow, or the day after that, or after that. There didn't seem anything waiting for her in the future. Her only companion in life was no longer around—who was she to talk to? Who was she to do anything for? Who was she to live for?

 _The End_


End file.
